Christmas Day Survivor
by bobt
Summary: Jacob's dear friend and loyal servant, Ilana Verdansky, is the only survivor of a horrific Christmas day fire in the Russian city of Chelybinsk. Benjamin Linus decides to visit her in the hospital and cover her medical bills.
1. Chapter 1

December 2006  
>Oblast Regional Hospital<br>Chelyabinsk, Russia

Benjamin Linus carefully walks the ice covered steps leading to the hospital entrance. The covered archway mimics the entrance to a church, but the heavy reinforced door looks more like the front door to a prison. He pushes his shoulder against the rusted metal until its hinges snap and creak; the door gives way to a patient waiting area barely warmer than the frigid conditions outside.

He steps forward; the loose linoleum floor bends and cracks beneath his feet. The ceiling stained with the moisture of leaking pipes. He brushes the powder off his shoulders adding to the puddles of melting snow on the floor. A group of waiting patients huddle close to a tiny heater in the middle of the room. They turn and jealously stare at the posh winter coat he's wearing.

Ben approaches a nurse standing behind the counter. She points to an empty chair in the waiting room without looking away from the clipboard she is reading. "Vate your turn," she instructs sharply.

His lips form a tightened smile. "Hello." He places his elbows on the counter and waits for her to look in his direction. "I'm here to see the survivors of the Christmas Day fire," he says.

She looks up from the clipboard; her stern expression softens. "Survivor," she says, shaking her head apologetically. "There eese only one left alive, and vee are unsure she vill make it."

He raises his eyebrows and nods. "Oh," he says, swallowing.

"It vuz such a horrendous accident," she says, hugging the clipboard to her chest. "You are dee first to visit. Unfortunately, only family members are allowed een intensive care."

"I understand." Ben removes his elbows from the counter then glances sheepishly to the floor. "But if I'm the first visitor, perhaps she doesn't have family." He opens his wallet and places a high denomination bill on the counter. "I want to pay for her medical care."

Her eyes widen as she glances down at the bill. Ben layers another one on top. And another. And then, another.

"Thank you," she says, gesturing her hand for him to stop. "Dat vill be more than enough." She straightens the cash and places it securely in a metal cash box. "Please, sir, follow me."

She opens the door next to the counter. Ben follows her down a narrow corridor leading to intensive care. Patients crowd the halls and quietly groan in their wheelchairs, all but ignored by the shortage of doctors and nurses. They enter a dimly lit room at the end of the hall; a woman, bandaged from head to toe lies unconscious in a hospital bed. A heart monitor beats faintly in the background.

The nurse tilts her head slightly and presses her hand to her chest; a layer of forming tears glazes over her eyes. "She eese dee only survivor of dee Christmas Day fire."

Ben removes his coat and folds it beneath his arms. He approaches the bed and sits in a chair next to her side.

"I vill be up front if you need me," says the nurse. She turns back before leaving. "Thank you for taking care of her."

"No. _Thank you_," Ben replies, steadying his glasses on the tip of his nose. He leans forward and peers into the opening of her facial bandage. Her eyes are shut; her breathing steady and peaceful. "I'm sorry this happened," he says. "But it wasn't an accident. It was arson." Ben stares blankly forward and takes a moment to suppress the tiny measure of human sympathy forming in the back of his twisted mind. "You and your friends; all of your names were on the list. The men I hired chose the method of execution. Unfortunately, they didn't finish the job."

Ben removes his winter gloves, uncovering a pair of latex gloves he's wearing underneath. "And I came to finish it."

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><p><strong>Will Ben "finish the job" he came there to do? Or will the spirit of Christmas somehow influence him to do otherwise? Next chapter this week! -bobt<strong>


	2. Chapter 2

Ben makes a fist to relieve the tightness of the latex over his knuckles. He straightens his posture and clears his mind in preparation for the gruesome task. He reaches into his coat pocket and opens a white plastic box which ironically looks like a first aid kit. He removes a syringe, and inserts the needle through a permeable container holding a lethal solution. The unusual sympathetic feeling resurfaces; nagging him as he follows the routine procedure of murder he's performed dozens of times.

Before injecting her, he notices several of her belongings placed on a stand next to the bed. He recognizes a silver bracelet; he picks it up and reads the message engraved inside the cuff:

_Ilana, I will always be with you. R.G._

He leans forward and looks again into her eyes closed shut. He's never seen her face, but imagines her beauty without the bandages. "I want you to know, Ilana, that you're nobody special. He gives a bracelet to every woman that works for him."

The rhythm of her breathing slows to fuller inhalations. Her body twitches as if she's shifting to get comfortable. Her eyelids shudder then suddenly open. She's startled as she awakens staring directly at her aggressor. "Where am I?" she whispers in a raspy voice, her jaw constrained by the tension in the bandages.

"You're in a hospital, but I'm not a physician." Ben clears the syringe needle by squirting a droplet into the air. "Unfortunately, I am the last person you will ever see."

She sees the syringe and panics. The pulse of her heart monitor races as she squirms to fight back or escape. After a moment of struggle she realizes it's no use. She barely has the strength to breathe. She calmly surrenders; her eyes swell with tears as she comes to terms with her fate. "Why?" she cries with a whisper.

"Why?" Ben replies, the anger in his voice rising. "You want to know why?" He places the syringe aside and pulls a photo from his front pocket. "This is why!" He brings it closer to her bandage covered face; it's a picture of his daughter, Alex. "The game we are involved in is very dangerous." He adjusts his glasses and stares into the photo; the memories of his beloved daughter once again fully refreshed in his mind. It's an image he refuses to let go, along with all the pain that accompanies it. "The rules have changed, Ilana. Even the ones we love most are no longer protected."

Ilana's anger slowly subsides as she identifies the pain of his loss. She understands. The vengeance has clouded his judgment, leaving her to be the object of his lashing out. It's the pain of vengeance she's experienced before, until Jacob showed her a better way. "She's beautiful," she whispers. "I forgive you."

Her kind words disarm him. He places the syringe back in its box then removes the latex gloves. "Your worth more to me alive anyways." He leans forward, not to threaten but to demand the answer to the one question that would satisfy his thirst for vengeance. "Answer me; _who do you work for?_"

Her breathing steadies as she slowly slips out of consciousness. She blinks her eyes rapidly, trying to stay alert. Her heart rate slows to an abnormal pace. He leans his ear over her mouth. She answers in a quiet whisper before slipping back into unconsciousness:

_Ille qui nos omnes servabit (He who will save us all)_

Ben instantly translates the familiar Latin phrase. He looks away and sits up in his chair, frustrated by his position of helplessness. "I hope he does," he retorts. He continues the conversation, hoping she's able to listen in her coma like state. "I was once loyal to someone before. Someone I believed to be very powerful. I served his every request, without questioning; and I never even met him." He looks down and stares again at the photo of Alex. "And now, my daughter is gone. He who will save us all? Well, he certainly didn't save her."

He leans forward in the chair while placing his elbows on his knees. "He who will save us all?" he repeats, his voice full of sarcasm. He balances his chin on his hands in a posture of meditation. "Two thousand years ago, followers of Jesus believed He came to save mankind." He looks back to Ilana; her breathing steady and peaceful again. "There is no Christmas," he says boldly, firming his expression of anger. "There is no God. There is no Jesus. There is no Jacob." He stands from the chair and fits his coat and gloves back on. "And I will never see my daughter again."

He walks to the doorway, turning one last time before leaving. "The nurse told me it's unlikely you will survive your injuries. So whatever person, or deity, it is that you serve; I hope he saves you. And if he does, I am quite sure our paths will cross once again."

-The End-

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><p><strong>Merry Christmas and Happy New Year JacDanvers and to anyone else reading this! Please give me a comment if you read and enjoyed.. I know it was dark, but it was how I imagined the conversation. FYI, the silver bracelet I was referring to was the mysterious bracelet Naomi and Sayid's German girlfriend had in "The Economist." Kinda cool I thought.<strong>


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